


Brilliant Thirteen

by LadyOfTheOldWorld



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Agender Character, Also in The Forgotten universe, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - High School, Another little self-indulgent self-insert fic, Bipolar I Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, For Hamliet, Forgottenverse, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Karren von Rosewald, Genderfluid Suzuya Juuzou, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Past Suicide Attempt(s), Karren von Rosewald is Austrian, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Past Abuse, Past Abusive Relationship(s), Past Domestic Abuse, You can all fight me on this, body image issues, implied eating disorder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2018-12-20 04:19:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11913078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyOfTheOldWorld/pseuds/LadyOfTheOldWorld
Summary: When Arima asks him for a bit of help, Juuzou doesn't expect to make a friend in the process.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hamliet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hamliet/gifts).



> I will fight anyone that has a problem with this. The title's a bit of self-indulgent wordplay. Takes place five or six years after the end of _The Forgotten_ and in the same universe; written with Hamliet's permission.

The first time he sees the student, it’s the picture in the file.

Normally, he wouldn’t have access to these records, seeing as he is not a staff member and is only called in when Arima needs help with someone with the same disorder (aka, how he met and adopted his son) or when… special circumstances require the kind of attention that the dean and psychiatrist doesn’t really have the time to give one-on-one. He wonders which this one will be, though the file quickly clears up that it’s not the former. Borderline Personality Disorder and Bipolar (I) Disorder are similar, yes, in that they both present a wide array of moods that can change on a dime, but there’s a core instability of self-identity to Borderline Personality Disorder that Bipolar Disorder tends to lack. Unless they’re comorbid, which is another issue entirely, and thankfully not the case here. …That actually strikes him as odd, when he pauses to think about it for a moment. Borderline Personality Disorder – _any_ personality disorder – can’t be diagnosed until adulthood, but according to the file, the student is only eighteen…

Reading more into the file itself clears that fact up quickly enough, however. A disowned runaway, lacking in any ties simply because there weren’t any to be found. Until recently, America had been home; now, Re Academy has a foreign student with a surprisingly good grasp of Japanese and a legal (if depressingly short) family registry. That’s something he knows all about, but so far, he still can’t see why Arima vetted him specifically for this. Actually, the more he reads, the less he understands. An interest in literature, languages, and history, though with a vehement abhorrence of math, science, and art. When he comes to the issue of gender versus sex, he thinks he might understand, but even then the pieces don’t quite fit perfectly. Karren would be better for this, especially given that the student in question speaks fluent German. Mucchan would also have been better for this, though his own mental state is still somewhat precarious. The only thing that even slightly stands out about the student are interests.

When he meets his charge, he registers long brilliant red hair, hazel-green eyes, and skin as pale as his own. Height and build almost identical to his, though skinny and soft, rather than skinny and wiry. A pronounced slouch that makes him seem taller, as if curling into a ball is preferable to being seen. Once again, he can’t help thinking that Mutsuki would be better suited for this. A cool, reserved expression, one that only looks that way on the outside. It’s a mask as much as the ones Uta had his art classes make, but if one knew where to look and what to look _for_ … Maybe Karren would have been better suited than Tooru, on third thought. Seated in a chair across Dorm Block 20’s lounge from him, the redhead carefully positioned to not indicate gender. Something niggles at him, but he brushes it aside. He makes introductions, extending a pale boney hand to shake one that could be its twin if not for being attached to a different body, wanting to at least be polite no matter how long they end up working together.

"Suzuya Juuzou."

"Suzuki Aki."

A carefully modulated pitch, and a _brilliant_ ly gender neutral name; the niggling feeling gets stronger.

"I apologize," not something he would have said five years ago, "but I would like to know how your preference. Are you more comfortable with male or female pronouns?"

Something like a smirk cants the redhead’s lips to one side, but doesn’t show in the response. "Gender neutral, they/them. If I remember correctly, Japanese possesses gender-neutral pronouns? English hasn’t quite caught up, yet."

He almost misses the snark, but then everything _clicks_ , and he breaks into a grin.

Tossing formality aside, he offers Aki a thumbs up, one that almost makes them grin back.

"I think we’ll get along, Aki. We’ll get along _just_ fine."

He was right for this kid; being transgender was one thing, but being agender as something else entirely.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always seem to start things I don't intend to continue... and then I continue them anyway. Kaguya is based off my dear friend Hamliet, and is written in with their permission.

A cool breeze ruffled the curtains in Dorm Block 20’s living room.

As it was a Friday afternoon, most of the dorm’s occupants could be found somewhere about campus, if not holed up in their rooms studying. Some took their work with them, preferring either the library or simply somewhere outside, so they could be both productive and take advantage of the remaining nice weather. Others were engaged in various nefarious activities, ones that not even counseling and well-intentioned staff could help with. After all, you could take the kid out of the streets, but you couldn’t always take the streets out of the kid. However, there was one senior who wasn’t currently engaged in any of the above. They were the single occupant of the dorm’s living room, thumbing through a book that was obviously well-read and well-loved. Brilliantly red hair was pulled back in a loose braid, the end just brushing the last of their ribs. Dark jeans and a loose, long-sleeved green shirt – emblazoned with a large clover colored to resemble the Irish flag – gave off comfortable androgyny.

Despite appearing relaxed, however, they were in truth fully aware of their surroundings. In part this came from growing up in (and bouncing back and forth between, over the years) abusive situations, but had much more to do with their physical limitations. Though they didn’t advertise the fact that they were nearly blind, it was fairly easy to tell – they always sat at the front of the classroom, and used lager-print forms of textbooks – and over the course of their life, it had impressed upon them a sense of always needing to know where they were in relation to their surroundings. Even if they couldn’t see something, which they often couldn’t, they would be able to make note of where or what something was by feel and memory. Stairs, however, continued to be the bane of their existence, and likely always would be. (They had taken a tumble _up_ the stairs in the dorm on their first day there, which no-one was likely to be quick to forget.) It wasn’t a perfect system, but it worked well enough.

The sound of the door opening made them tense up for a moment, body going taut like a coiled spring. This was yet another learned response from their past, especially in unfamiliar surroundings. However, within the same moment as the door opened, discordant humming reached their ears, and the redhead relaxed immediately. Auditory clues were the main way that they identified someone, and this particular one was connected to a very specific person. As always, though, their expression remained more or less placid; only when their emotions got the better of them did it change. Regardless, as they set their book on their lap, the redhead tossed something that resembled a ghost of a smile toward the blur that had just entered the dorm block. Of course, the blur was a person, but it wouldn’t solidify into anything even slightly person-shaped until it was much closer. A soft swish and click registered to the hazel-eyed teen’s ears, and the ghost of a small smile became something like a slight quirk of colorless lips.

“Feeling feminine today, Juuzou?” It may have seemed rude and incredibly informal, but the white-tressed male had almost immediately given her permission to use his familiar name. It also helped decrease confusion, as they both had similar-sounding surnames. As of now, a few months into their friendship, the hopefully-soon-to-be art teacher took the redhead’s words as they were intended – a friendly jab, and the American teen’s way of complimenting his appearance, even if they couldn’t see him yet. (It was something that they liked to gently tease him about, as he had simply _strange_ taste in men’s clothing, but quite fashionable taste in women’s.)

“As much as you seem to be feeling stubborn, Aki.” Juuzou’s words were light, almost as light as his steps, as he traipsed across the living room to settle himself at the other end of the couch from the redhead. Despite the levity to his words, there was a point to them as well, one which Aki felt acutely. Shifting their gaze downward, unable to meet the pointed red stare, they looked over their… friend’s (for lack of a better term) outfit. It seemed that their ears had told them right; a flouncy red skirt and petticoats hit just at Juuzou’s knees, while the deep maroon kitten heels added an inch to his height. Along with the white blouse, slightly sheer black tights, and his usual red hair pins holding his bangs out of his eyes, he was quite pretty in a delicate and doll-like sort of way. The eyeliner, mascara, and dark red lipstain helped with the doll-like appearance, but Aki wasn’t going to say anything about it. Quickly casting their gaze away, green-hazel eyes found their hands as they fiddled with the book in their lap.

Realizing he wasn’t going to get a response by being indirect, Juuzou decided that he might as well be blunt. “If I know you as well as I think I do, you’ve been wearing your binder since at least six this morning.” In deference to Aki’s not wanting this broadcasted, his voice had lowered, but that had added an edge of sharpness that he hadn’t intended. Taking a deep breath, he continued, voice noticeably softer. “I know what it’s like to want to be comfortable in your own skin, but if you wear it any longer, it’ll hurt you in the long run. I _suggest_ that you go change when I leave.” In spite of the wording, both of them knew it wasn’t a suggestion as much as it was something he was just about ordering for Aki’s own safety.

After a few long moments and a jerky nod, Aki finally lifted their gaze up to meet Juuzou’s eyes again. The soft smile curling his lips made the redhead do a double take. Slowly, as if he were approaching a wounded fox caught in a bear trap – which Aki honestly felt like, sometimes – the feminine male leaned forward and gently placed a hand on the teen’s shoulder. Even with the care with which he approached them, even with familiarity on his side, Aki still flinched away for a moment before relaxing into the touch. Or, it would have been more correct to say that Aki _forced_ themselves to relax into Juuzou’s grip, though feeling his fingers work into one of the knots in their shoulders helped.

“Hey,” his voice was even softer than it had been before, exuding care of a platonic nature and fierce intensity. It was the way Aki had heard him talk to his adopted son, Hiroto, on the few occasions that they had seen the two together. It made something warm and uncomfortable squirm inside of the redhead, something they had no idea how to deal with or how to acknowledge. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. None of the staff here is going to hurt you, and I know you can protect yourself if any of the students try.” It was probably against the rules for him to encourage them to fight back physically, but it was still one of the harsh realities of Re Academy. If you didn’t know how to at least defend, you would be eaten alive. Kaneki Ken may have managed it, but there was no-one else in the world quite like Kaneki Ken, or so Aki had heard.

Juuzou’s continuing speaking broke them from their thoughts. “I know you’re gonna hate answering this – believe me, I did, too – but I need to ask. Are you taking your meds?” This was another of the reasons that Juuzou was still working with the redhead; both of them took the same medications, though minus the Lithium on Aki’s part. “I get that it sucks at first, and feels like it isn’t working – been there, done that, set the t-shirt on fire – but you need to keep at it.” He’d shared his own horror stories with her in grisly detail, despite Arima’s mixed feelings on the subject. Aki knew how Juuzou had spiraled between mania and depression and recovery for years, unwilling to remain medicated until he nearly lost everyone he held dear and his own life in the process. The voice in their head, the one that Juuzou admitted still having to wrestle with some days, kept telling them that they weren’t worth recovery, that they didn’t deserve to be healthy, but Juuzou had had a story about that, too. In the end, it was mainly his guidance and support that kept them on track (a text every evening to remember their meds didn’t hurt), though the relationships that they were forming with other students helped as well.

In the end, Juuzou stayed until he managed to get a smile from Aki, and then he reluctantly had to leave. (He did stop in to say hello to his adoptive parents, of course, but that wasn’t something Aki was supposed to know, for whatever reason.) Heading up to the second floor, being careful on the sitars as they had learned to be from that painful spill, the redhead knocked on the door to their room to alert their roommate that they were coming in. The one time they had forgotten had been embarrassing, even though they couldn’t actually see their roommate in her state of undress, and had taught them to always knock. Opening the door when they received the go-ahead, Aki nudged to closed behind them with their right foot once they had slipped inside. Their roommate, Yamato Kaguya, was sprawled out on her bed. From the looks of it, the more gingery redhead was attempting to do her math homework… and failing. Both redheads were of the opinion that math could go burn in Hell, something they had bonded over quickly, as well as their shared love of literature. Every so often, Aki wondered if this was what having a friend was like.

“Noro still trying to kill you?” Aki tossed the question Kaguya’s way, as they flopped down on their bed. Since the two redheads had different strengths when it came to math – Aki may have hated math, but at least Algebra and Algebra II were easy enough – they were in different math classes. A groan from their roommate made the shorter redhead laugh, before reaching for the notebook. “I’ll write down some cheats for the equations, if you do Tatara’s chem homework for me… Just, y’know, not too well, otherwise he’ll flip his shit when I barely scrape by on tests.” The two exchanged notebooks, and for a while, all was quiet. Then Aki’s brain decided to poke them.

“Oh, hey,” shifting and cracking their neck, the brighter redhead pulled a chocolate bar out of their pocket (thank God for guy’s jeans having actual pockets) and tossed it to Kaguya. “Juuzou gave that to me. He said I should at least eat something, even if it wasn’t actual food, but… I’m not a fan of _white_ chocolate.” They pulled a face, their disgust for the so called type of chocolate obvious. They knew why Juuzou liked it, since it was 98% sugar, but they had always been partial to milk chocolate. Kaguya, on the other hand, loved just about all types of chocolate, which Aki only understood so much of, since dark chocolate was too bitter and white chocolate was an abomination against God in their mind. The grin that the taller redhead tossed them in return made the same warm, uncomfortable feeling squirm inside of Aki, and they looked away, cheeks burning.

Just before dinner, Ai returned Kaguya’s notebook. “I added some notes on how to recognize equations,” they offered as an explanation, when their roommate raised an eyebrow at the three pages’ worth of notes. “I figured that just giving you the equation breakdown wouldn’t do too much if you didn’t know when to use them, so… yeah.” Cheeks once again burning, Aki couldn’t hold Kaguya’s grey gaze. Their RA knocking on the door to let them know that it was dinner time broke the awkward silence, thankfully, and as always, Aki begged off by saying that they weren’t hungry. If they really wanted something, they would slink over to Anteiku later; Yoshimura was always willing to give them a little something for free, knowing that they didn’t have a source of income. As always, Kaguya tossed them a worried look, but left anyway, not wanting to push. Feeling emotionally and physically drained, Aki texted Juuzou an apology, turned off their phone, and flopped down on their bed.

One day of not taking their meds wouldn’t kill them… or, so they hoped.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some fluff. Written to cheer up Hamliet~ Also, this mentions a peeve of mine, which has to do with Karren's ethnicity based on the way that she speaks. Her words are correct German, however, they aren't correct _German_ German. Her words and syntax read the way that someone writing/speaking in the Austrian dialect of German would word their sentences. And yes, there _is_ a difference -- it's the same as the difference between American English and British English. Feel free to fight me on this.

“ _Say it again_.”

When Juuzou had shown up for the second of their twice-weekly “sessions” – Arima asked that they talk at least once a week, but twice worked for both their schedules and their friendship – Aki had only been able to blink up at the tall, statuesquely beautiful person behind their older friend. Well, not exactly tall, as they discovered later, but as they were closer to 157cm than 160cm themselves, anyone that had more than roughly two inches on them appeared taller to the redhead. (It could also have been their vision playing tricks on them, but Aki chose not to think about it just then.) Either way, the person introduced as Karren von Rosewald (apparently comfortable with either masculine or feminine pronouns, though personally used feminine most often) was certainly beautiful and statuesque. Light violet hair was cut in a short and chic style, while pink eyes were lined and shadowed just enough to be tasteful. However, the light make-up only heightened striking fluidity.

Dressed in a feminine cut dress shirt and trousers, Karren was the kind of androgynous that Aki hoped to one day be able to affect, though the redhead had to note with no small amount of jealousy that the purplette didn’t seem to need to wear a binder. Shoving the unproductive thoughts from their mind, the redhead had been about to introduce themselves, when Juuzou had oh-so-helpfully piped up with the knowledge that Aki would be spending the “session” with Karren, and that they should both feel free to converse in German. Feeling their careful mask slip and crack, the American teen had only had a moment to gape at their white-tressed friend – who appeared to be wearing shorts and a ridiculously over-sized button-down, along with bright red slippers, of all things – before Juuzou was heading back out the door. And suddenly, Aki had found themselves alone with a stranger in the middle of Dorm Block 20’s living room.

Karren, however, hadn’t seemed at all perturbed. She had simply settled on one end of the couch, gestured to the other end in an indication for Aki to sit, and then proceeded to offer up further information about herself. In German. Stunned and unable to formulate a proper response, the redhead had dropped onto the couch and allowed their brain to go on autopilot. Of course, given that German was technically their first language – they had spoken it until they were five, at which point their… _mother_ had decided that it would be a wonderful idea to employ a British nanny, and then continued to speak it with their now-deceased maternal grandparents – Aki’s response had followed suit. However, as they hadn’t grown up speaking what was considered “high German,” aka the German spoken and taught in Germany, their words came softer. The specific dialect of German they had grown up speaking once been considered “high German,” but had eventually been phased out by what was generally termed _German_ German.

Karren’s eyes widened, pink and bright with a mix of disbelief and hope, while her oh-so-perfect mouth fell open in shock. Regardless of their knee-jerk reaction to do so, however, Aki couldn’t even scramble to retract their statement before thy were ordered to repeat themselves. Dutifully, the shorter of the two repeated what they had said; a few facts about themselves, (their grade, some of their interests) and that they thought Karren was pretty. Shaking her head emphatically, the purplette had snapped at the redhead in response. “ _Not like that. Exactly the way you said it the first time_.” Despite the edge to her words, Karren had yet to switch back to Japanese. And that was when Aki realized what she meant – rather, exactly _how_ she meant it. Slowly, a timid smile curled the redhead’s lips upward at the corners, an answering one softening Karren’s own features. Exhaling and relaxing, Aki spoke again, this time allowing their own “native” words free rather than try to parse out the grammar of high German.

Soon, they were having a conversation only someone raised speaking Austrian German could follow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deals with some heavy emotional/verbal abuse, so stay safe, lovelies.

Showers annoyed Aki.

Well, no, that wasn’t strictly true. Showers, in and of themselves, were perfectly fine, even if needing to deal with parts of themselves that they disliked was annoying. Washing their hair could be annoying, but other than that, showers on their own were fine. (Especially before bed, but that was neither here nor there at the moment.) Showering in the morning was what annoyed Aki, and even then it was only because of what happened after. It wasn’t even dealing with drying their absurdly thick and easily-tangled hair, though that could get irksome in and of itself. No, what annoyed Aki the most, was putting on their binder after showering, especially if it happened to be their Underworks binder, since the fabric it was made of did not lend itself to sticking or getting wet, both of which tended to happen following a shower in the morning. Had it been up to Aki, they would have lived in their gc2b binders, but those did need to be washed, so they had to deal with the struggle of getting into an uncooperative binder every so often.

That in mind, their day hadn’t started off all that well. Then they had had to deal with first period chemistry, during which Tatara had sprung a test on their class. At that point, uncomfortable and tired, Aki had wanted nothing more than to have the floor open up and swallow them. Add to the fact that it was a double period, and Aki was grumpier than usual. Third period was art, and since the teacher was shit and didn’t seem to comprehend that a (nearly) blind person wasn’t going to be able to sketch tings very well, Juuzou really couldn’t be instated as their teacher soon enough, in the redhead’s opinion. Fourth period was Literature, thankfully enough, but they ended up starting on a new book, and the teacher had forgotten that Aki required a larger print version, which left them confused and irritated the whole time. Fifth period had been math, and though Noro had also administered a test, it had so far the only class that didn’t make Aki want to stab someone, surprisingly.

Lunch was as uncomfortable as always, enduring Kaguya’s concerned looks while pretending that they didn’t care. Sixth period had been gym, which really, really annoyed Aki, and also made them wonder why they even bothered showing up. But, as always, their crippling fear of disappointing people that they cared about prevented them from skipping. Even though they hated gym with a passion, since it required wearing shorts and a t-shirt, and meant that the scars on their arms were visible to everyone when the weather turned even a bit nippy. Not to mention that they hated their body, hence their issues with food, and that they never wore shorts if they could avoid it. Their final class of the day was a study hall period, which the redhead had almost ended up sleeping through, which just made them angry at themselves. All of that taken into account, it shouldn’t have surprised them that even the second of their twice-weekly meetings with Juuzou ended up going wrong.

They had been having tea – with such an absurd amount of sugar in Juuzou’s that Aki wondered if it could still be considered tea – when an old injury of the redhead’s had decided to act up. Badly healed breaks, such as the one that was their right hand, tended to do so when the cold started to creep into their joints. (A wrist brace really didn’t help at all when having broken the second and third metacarpal bones, but no-one listened when Aki had tried to tell them that, when they had been fifteen.) Their hand had spasmed, and of course it was the hand that they were currently holding their teacup with because Fate just loved to fuck with them like that. The mug had crashed to the floor and shattered, while Aki’s hand locked up and the nerves screamed in agony. For a moment, Juuzou wasn’t there, instead their mother, who was shouting at them that they were useless and wrothless ans couldn’t do anything right why weren’t they just dead –

"– Aki!"

Jerking back to reality, the redhead stared up at Juuzou who was suddenly standing beside them, eyes wide and face white as his hair. Their hand twitched minutely, sending jolts of pain up through their nerves, as little shudders ran through their body. When they started feeling lightheaded, Aki realized that they had stopped breathing, and took a shaky breath. It was okay, everything was alright, they were almost nine thousand kilometers away from their mother and her screaming about how she wished they were dead. Almost nine thousand kilometers away from her litany of reasons why they didn’t deserve happiness, friendship, or to ever have anything good happen to them. Almost nine thousand kilometers away from her scorn over how much of a failure they were, especially compared to their oh-so-perfect five siblings and why couldn’t they ever do something right for once in their miserable life – Then Juuzou’s hands were on their shoulders, and his ruby gaze was searching their face intently.

"Hey, hey, calm down." As ever, his words were soft but fiercely caring. "You’re okay, you’re safe, you aren’t in trouble." In any other instance, Aki would have bristled at being talked to like a child. With anyone else, Aki would have stiffened at being hushed like a wounded animal. If it weren’t Juuzou, Aki would have drawn back behind their cold mask and shut the person out. In any other situation, Aki would have lashed out at the person trying to calm them. But with Juuzou, they did none of those things because with Juuzou, they knew that they were indeed safe. Burrowing into their friend’s shoulder, Aki fought the tears but not the quivers that wracked their frame. They weren’t hugging Juuzou, and he didn’t force a hug on them, but he didn’t push them away, either. He allowed them to be, as he called for his adoptive father (also Aki’s dorm parent/technical legal guardian) to give him a hand with cleaning up the mess of the shattered mug.

Aki would deny it later, and Juuzou would let them, but for now… they felt at least somewhat secure.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sick, so that's really all that inspired this chapter, to be perfectly honest.

The sound of a knock roused Aki from a fitful sleep.

The redhead managed to call what they thought was a “come in,” but when the door to the dorm room was nudged open and the person on the other side – what was Juuzou doing there at six in the morning? – the expression on the newly-instated art teacher’s face was somewhat bemused at best.

“Was that even English?” Juuzou wondered, as he maneuvered the bowl of soup around and cleared off the eighteen-year-old’s nightstand. “Since it wasn’t German – I’ve been around Karren long enough to pick up some things – and it sure as Hell wasn’t Japanese…”

Frowning, and trying to think through the fuzziness that obscured their mind, Aki uncurled from under their five blankets, shuddering at the cold. Hadn’t it been supposed to be unseasonably warm? “What’re you doing here? It’s six in the morning…” The sound of their voice coming out raspy made the redhead do a double-take, but Juuzou confirmed their thoughts before they could even register them.

“Damn, you must _really_ be out of it.” Settling into Aki’s desk chair, Juuzou folded his arms across the back and leaned his chin onto his wrists. “It’s four in the afternoon, Aki. I knew you were sick – Yamato told my dad this morning, when she couldn’t wake you up – but _jeez_. Talk about sleeping like the dead…”

Even as Aki went to refute his words, claim that there was no way they were sick, a hacking cough and a sneeze cut off the attempt. It also confirmed Juuzou’s assertion, almost as much as the stray shivers that were making the redhead draw their blankets closer in around them. Sardonically, Aki couldn’t help but wonder what they’d fucked up _this time_ to end up sick. Of course, that thought was immediately eclipsed with one that they put to voice before they could think about it.

“You shouldn’t be in here, you’ll get sick… Kaguya’s going to bunk with the other girls for now, right?” As if their mind suddenly weren’t in the proverbial driver’s seat anymore, Aki continued speaking, despite how horrified they were at their own words. “I’m sorry… to cause you guys so much trouble.”

“…Aki, you’re a great kid, but please, _shut up_.” Juuzou’s deadpan words made the redhead blink in surprise, trying not to let them hurt, since they were sure he hadn’t meant to hurt them. As if ratifying their thoughts, the white-haired male continued. “You _aren’t_ being a burden. You _aren’t_ causing us trouble. I’m here because I _care about you_ , and because I was _worried_.”

Changing the subject as if that settled the matter – and, really, in Juuzou’s mind it probably did – he stood up and dragged the chair over to Aki’s bedside. “I’m not gonna feed you, since I don’t think you’d let me anyway, but you do need to eat something.” Settling into the chair the right way around this time, he picked up the steaming bowl, slender fingers nearly blending in with the white ceramic. Only his nails and stitches, both a bright and bloody red, stood out against the pale. Just as Aki realized that they were stalling by focusing on his hands, their companion’s voice broke them from their thoughts.

“Of course, if you’re gonna be _stubborn_ about it…” A subtle threat was carried in the words, hinting that Juuzou knew _exactly_ why they were stalling, and once again, he read them like a book. “Look, I’ve been there, where food seems like the last thing you want, like it’s going to take everything you have to force yourself to give up the one thing you can control… I get it. But I swear to whatever God or Gods exist, I will feed you if I have to. It’s not currently up for discussion.”

Feeling petulant, and with illness reducing their filter and inhibitions to zero, Aki bit out, “Where _haven’t_ you been? It’s like you’ve done just about _every single thing possible_ to fuck up your life, and yet you’re somehow so _fucking_ sane and stable…” It was a testament to the fact that they had been spending quite a lit of time around Juuzou, when the usually hyper-aware and careful redhead swore and expressed anything like a dissent or an opinion of their own.

As for the more feminine of the pair, he just gave them a small, sad smile. As open as his face was, as understanding as his expression, there was something dark and closed off in his red gaze. “I wonder that a lot, too, Aki. I wonder it every second of every day. Why am I still alive? Even that aside, _how_ am I still alive? I don’t deserve to be, that’s plain as day, not with how I did everything possible to end my existence, how I pushed everyone that cared about me away, how ungrateful I was… But I _am_ still here, and maybe there’s a reason for it, maybe there isn’t. Either way, though, I’m going to do everything I can to help you keep going, even if it’s just for one more damn day.”

Chastised, flushing in shame, Aki took the spoon in hand without further complaint.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A somewhat heavy chapter, somewhat in the same vein as chapter four, so please keep yourselves safe. As for specific chapter warnings, there's an instance of what I believe is known as "dead naming," along with allusions to a past suicide attempt, and mentions of past abusive relationships. I'll be editing the tags to reflect this.

The words came in a jumbled tumble, thoughtless and without the redhead's permission. For his part, Arima Kishou simply listened, knowing well by then that Aki would close up and shut him out if the pried too soon or too much. As the spoke, he leaned back in his chair, one knee crossed over the other and hands folded in his lap. Across from him, the agender teen seemed to be attempting to curl into themselves, knees pulled in tightly to their chest. Words came haltingly, with gaps and stutters between, but he was just glad that they were talking in the first place. Arima had more than a mere suspicion that having had tea with Juuzou prior to the session had loosened Aki's tongue, but he said nothing about it. It wasn't his place to judge, after all.

"It s-started... this m-mo-mor... m-morning..."

_They had woken feeling disoriented and uncomfortable, and Aki had quickly realized why. They had somehow fallen asleep on their back, for one, with their laptop sitting open on their chest. Of course, that meant that they had slept with their binder on, which was more immediately worrying than the headache they would inevitably get from sleeping on their back -- even if only because Juuzou was likely to be upset, should he learn of it. Their lack of self-preservation aside, the redhead suddenly discovered exactly why they had woken so abruptly before their alarm at what the clock on their laptop was claiming was 5AM on a Saturday: someone was calling them on skype. As only a very few people (ten at a stretch) even had their skype information, Aki had answered the call without either checking who it was, or even bothering to fully wake up (a feat accomplishable only by someone who was both nearly blind and very tired)._

_"_ Hi, Samantha, how're you doing _?"_

_That woke them up immediately, and they sat up so quickly that they nearly gave themselves whiplash in the process. Kaguya paused in the doorway, on her way to shower and looking concerned, but Aki waved her off; they didn't want this to happen with their friend in the room. Offering the somewhat elderly woman across an ocean and sixteen hours behind them a smile, one that was convincingly real only thanks to their years of practice at faking their emotions, the redhead began nervously finger-combing and braiding their hair. At least this wasn't going to happen in English, thank God for small mercies..._

_"_ I'm alright _," they replied, shifting to actually sit up as they did so. "_ You woke me up, though, so I'm sorry if I'm a bit tired still, Tante. _" As they spoke, the teen was struck by how much more comfortable it was talking to Karren in German than this. However, as words has always been their only armor in situations like these, they would use what they had._

_"S_ orry, sorry. I just wanted to check on you, since you were sick a while ago. _" Despite Despite legally having no ties to their family any longer, for reasons relating to their medical records, they had given the school's administration their aunt's contact information."_ I also figured I'd ask you what you planned to do for Christmas, and if you'd gotten your Mom anything for her birthday, or if I should put your name on my gift _?"_

_And wasn't that a loaded question... Aki panicked for a moment, not having anything planned for a response, but much like with their smile, they were well versed in talking through raging panic attacks when interacting with their blood family. The trick was to not let on that they were panic rambling, and to keep the desperation out of their voice and reactions. "_ Oh, God, sorry, I was so busy that completely forgot that that was coming up! _" That was a lie, they worried about things to do with their so-called "mother" almost daily. "_ As for Christmas, I don't honestly know." _Another lie. They would be spending it at Re, and if Kaguya had plans, they would be spending it with Juuzou or Karren. "_ We have classes right up until he day _," lie, "_ and I don't have the money for a last minute flight. _" Yet another lie. "_ I don't think I'll make it back this year, sorry. Sorry. _"_

_Forcing themselves to stop there, lest they break down completely, the redhead glanced at the clock more than a little bit desperately. They needed to end this now, and for the first time in their life, they thanked God for school. "_ I hate to cut this short, _" everything was a FUCKING LIE, "_ but I need to go if I want to have time to shower before breakfast and first period. Have a good day. _" Rude, thankless, spineless, stupid, coward. These thoughts and more screaming in their mind, Aki hung up the call after exchanging good-bye's with their aunt._

_The rest of the day was a fog of discomfort and self-hatred, eased only a bit by having tea with Juuzou in the art room after classes._

"I'm a coward," Aki spat, tears streaming down their cheeks. Ironically, anger lent strength and steadiness to their words and voice. " A fucking spineless coward who can't even tell the truth to the woman who literally saved my worthless life." Seventeen hadn't been kind to them in the least, rife with abusive relationships, increasingly deadly self-harm, and anorexia as only the tip of the metaphorical iceberg. Along with their location, only their relationship status had changed since then, bot changes being facilitated by or with the help of their aunt. They had bitterly told Arima that story, and little else, during their first session at the beginning of the school year.

Adjusting his glasses and leaning forward to offer them a tissue box he kept handy, the psychiatrist waited until they had blown their nose and were dabbing at their eyes to respond. "I believe that you're the exact opposite. You lie to spare her feelings, and to preserve the loving -- if imperfect -- relationship between you. It is in the nature of human beings to be flawed, Aki, and holding yourself to such unreasonable expectations is both unhealthy and unrealistic..."

Seeing them begin to close off and shut him out, he held up his hands in the age-old and time-honored gesture of surrender. Rome wasn't built in a day, after all, and the session was almost over, in any case. "Talk to Juuzou about it, when you and he meet up next." It was both a request and a suggestion, worded as gently as he could manage. Perhaps it was also a bit manipulative, but at least they would be talking to someone about it, rather than keeping everything inside and bottled up to explode at a later date. "I'll be seeing you Wednesday, as usual?" Rhetorical at best, but still part of a comfortable routine.

"Not like I have anywhere else to be."

Their smile may have been twisted and wry, but at least it was still a smile.


End file.
